


A Bloody Husband

by libraralien



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Circumcision, Crueltide, M/M, Oral Sex, Torture, Yuleporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21843781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libraralien/pseuds/libraralien
Summary: Hickey will make a believer of Goodsir yet.
Relationships: Harry D. S. Goodsir/Cornelius Hickey
Comments: 15
Kudos: 38
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	A Bloody Husband

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skazka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skazka/gifts).



> Many thanks to [yungdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yungdreams) for beta-ing!

Hickey cannot help himself. He continues to pick and prod at Goodsir as if he were a sore on his own body. If Hickey answered to anyone now he might have to admit that there is no reason for Goodsir to be here, for Hickey to have ordered him captured. He was right when he suggested Hickey could butcher a man himself, and Hickey knows that the rest of the men are beyond any healing the doctor can offer. Yet, most of them do not know this yet, and having Goodsir there offers them some comfort. Hickey is grateful for this excuse. 

He enters Goodsir's tent without a sense of definite intention, rare for him. He hopes Goodsir will bend to his will, but at the same time he enjoys the man's resistance. He had been shocked into delight when Goodsir had first rebuffed his flattery (with the knowledge that yes, that does really work on anyone, doctor), and even his rejection of his orders to cut into Billy Gibson had brought a smile to his face. He had bent eventually, at the threat to the body of Lieutenant Hodgson, but he could sense that Goodsir did not belong to him in his mind and heart - he did not truly believe in Hickey.

And he wants him to. There are more ways to own a man's heart than flattery or violence, though he has fully discounted neither.

Goodsir is sitting on his bedding and looks up at him wearily as he enters the tent, but still with some mix of pity and amusement and superiority, though surely less than before he had been made to cut up Billy. How deep do those reserves of morals go, Hickey wonders.

"Good morning, Mr. Goodsir."

"What do you want with me, Mr. Hickey?" he asks, frankly.

"I once thought you so kind, Mr. Goodsir, and you greet me that way? I merely thought you and I might talk with one another. Is it not the place of the learned man, such as yourself, to educate those who have not been educated as to the workings of the world?"

It is pure cheek on Hickey's part and they both know it.

"About what do you wish to know? The inner workings of the body so as to better kill and eat the men that remain? You do not need my help."

Pure cheek in return, fair play.

"Why should not the living eat the dead? We eat beasts. And surely once dead no soul remains in the bodies. Is there a difference between cutting up to eat and cutting up to learn how a man died?"

Goodsir lets out a single joyless laugh. "You wish to engage with me in a moral discourse? I am not a philosopher, merely an anatomist. I only have my private sense of moral behaviour in this world. Some things I am more sure about than I once was, some...I hardly know what to think."

"Tell me about your, as you say, private sense of moral behaviour, then. You must be as hungry as any of us—would you put no part of a man in your mouth?" Hickey asks, provocatively. Goodsir's expression flickers, though he says nothing so Hickey presses on, "What about a body part removed from a living man? If we had eaten Mr. Blanky's leg, or if Mr. Blanky had eaten his own leg?"

"My answers hardly matter, you came to me seeking to amuse yourself, I can see that. I will not afford you that."

Hickey would not allow such a dismissal. Where conversation had failed, he would now try seduction.

Some of the men had said that Goodsir was a Mary Anne. Hickey always kept his ear out for gossip and rumour, and especially rumour of that sort. More than the whispers of others though, he could spot such a thing. There had been times when his livelihood had depended on his ability to recognize when a man wanted to have his cock sucked in some bushes or an alley.

He did not think that Goodsir had, though he suspected that Goodsir was. This was to say, he never heard any word said that the man had ever committed any improprieties with any of the men, heard no names suggested as lovers, no suggestions that the man had ever gone so far as an act. Nonetheless, he was the kind of man whose natural disposition was for such things.

Many a dead boy's body ended up on surgeons' tables, Hickey thinks. Had the doctor been aware of where the bodies he had studied came from? Did he lower himself in order to obtain them, for all the respect for the dead he had implied to Hickey? Did he ever think about paying for those same bodies alive, and for a different purpose?  
Hickey could see him now, walking in a place where it was known that a boy's services could be bought, coins in his pocket, but not knowing how and perhaps without truly the strength of nerve to do so. Perhaps he fancied himself elevated above such cheap encounters, wanting for himself a love between equals. 

What he had now was Hickey dropping to his knees in front of him. 

He goes through the familiar motion of moving a man's clothes just enough to expose his prick. Goodsir does not assist Hickey, though neither does he make any motion to stop him. In fact he sits with an unnatural stillness. No weapon or order holds him in place, though if his stillness is out of shock or resignation or fear Hickey is not sure.

He barely has time to look at Goodsir's cock before taking it in his mouth. It is well-formed in an unremarkable way, smallish and soft, with an impressive amount of hair at the base. He works at him with a practiced hand, though it quickly becomes evident that Goodsir's stillness extends to his organ, which remains frustratingly soft and immobile in his mouth. All the men have lost their vigour to exhaustion and illness, but his hips do not move, his breath does not quicken, he is letting Hickey amuse himself and waiting for this to be over.

He feels suddenly ridiculous, suddenly furious at the doctor's softness in his mouth and in his stillness and passivity, embarrassed like a girl on her wedding night who cannot get a reaction out of her husband. He does not think he has misread Goodsir's disposition towards men, but perhaps he has misread Goodsir's disposition towards him, which is even more embarrassing. A devious seducer and a man with such urges, it is the harshest condemnation that he has failed in this way.

He stands abruptly, and his own anger and restlessness concentrate into a violent arousal.

"Or perhaps you prefer the other way then," Hickey says by way of explanation, while getting his own cock out. He steps between Goodsir’s knees, grabs his head and presses it down.

Despite his earlier stillness, he moves to do what is clearly expected of him and opens his mouth, taking Hickey.

Perhaps it would be safer to flip him over and take him from behind but he does not feel that there is any danger that Goodsir will bite into him, his own reservations about cutting and consuming a body already registered. 

The doctor is not wholly passive, but participates in moving his head, if only out of compliance. Hickey does not detect any enthusiasm, but there is something, a ghost of a desire perhaps, as if this is a thing he once wanted. It is however obvious that Goodsir has never done this, or even had this done to him. His teeth scrape against Hickey's prick out of clumsiness rather than malice and his motions are at odds with Hickey's.  
Hickey does not release his head, holding tight to his hair, thrusting his own hips while moving Goodsir's head and squeezing his face, trying to force his jaw open wider. If he has learned any skill aboard the ship, it is the ability to work himself to release from the clumsiest of fumblings, the most frustrating partners, and in the most uncomfortable of environments. 

Goodsir's eyes squeeze shut and he looks as though he might cry, which thrills Hickey that he has managed to make Goodsir feel something strongly towards him. His thrusting becomes erratic, his handling even rougher and spills in Goodsir's mouth.

When he pulls away, Goodsir seems to be in shock and allows the seed to run from his mouth into his beard, in a manner that would be wanton if there was any chance that it was purposeful, rather than a result of shock and inexperience.

He feels thrilled and alive, though his anger, rather than feeling satiated, is only intensified. 

He drops to his knees again, but rather than making another attempt at seduction produces a knife and runs it along Goodsir's exposed prick, as if his he had always been moving towards this end.

"What would happen if I were to cut off your cock and balls?" he asks, airily. He had cut off Lieutenant Irving's, but only after he was dead. The blood had leaked out of his body when cut there in an unsatisfying and sluggish way, though his cock was impressively large even in death, a fact which pleased Hickey for some reason. 

"I would die," Goodsir responds, in the same matter of fact tone he had used when informing Billy of much the same fact. How casually they are both treating this.

Hickey reaches out and fondles his parts, consideringly. Despite his frustrations,he does not want Goodsir to die, he is still having fun. 

"The foreskin can be cut off, can it not?"

"You refer to the practice of circumcision? Yes, it is standard among the Jews, and carries for them a religious significance. Quite safe, as I understand. Though it has few medical applications; I have never performed one," Goodsir answers, informative as always.

Hickey stands and picks up a pair of scissors from a nearby table and hands them to Goodsir. Perhaps it is unwise to hand a blade to a man he has just violated and humiliated, who may very well wish to kill him, but he has always trusted his gut, and he does not see the will or the ability to kill in Goodsir, at least not now, in so bloody and direct a manner.

"Go on then," Hickey prompts, gesturing with the knife. "You are a surgeon, are you not? Perform on yourself."

The level of remove is not necessary; he holds the knife to Goodsir to force him to take a knife to himself. Perhaps this elevates it from mere violence to something more interesting. Goodsir pinches his foreskin and pulls it away from his center, while holding his scissors in the other hand. His hands tremble, though Hickey suspects this is more from exhaustion and hunger than nerves, as his face looks remarkably calm. 

Years of dashing off ruined toes, ears, and the tips of fingers must have taught Goodsir not to draw out a procedure, and he is capable of applying this knowledge to himself, it seems. There is a quick movement of the blade, and despite watching closely, Hickey can see little else after, all disappearing in a flash of blood, and then covered with a rag held tightly. He suspects it might not have been the most thorough job done, but the hand not squeezing himself is indeed holding a small ring of skin, so there was no trick to it. Goodsir did not cry out at the cut, but breathes hard and rapidly.

Hickey plucks the bloody scrap out of Goodsir's hand and examines it. Goodsir is still clenching his organ with a scrap of rag, now turning red, but watching Hickey with a worried look of dread. Given the earlier proceedings he is likely fearful that Hickey would eat it in front of him, or worse, force him to eat it himself. 

"It doesn't look like much, does it? Some skin that could have come from any part of a man. But it has a religious meaning, as you said. What meaning?"

Goodsir looks somehow more pained, if possible, as if he had steeled himself for all manner of torture to follow, but he had not anticipated Hickey’s attempt to discourse with him on the matter of religion.

"A command from God to Abraham and his descendents, symbolizing," he winces slightly, as if at the idea that the pain throbbing between his legs was a symbol of anything, "their covenant with the Lord." He stops abruptly, as if he has more he could say on the subject, more thoughts on God, but has suddenly decided he would not share them with Hickey. 

Resentment bubbles up in Hickey, that even the intimacy of the knife under the skin could induce the doctor to neither respect nor fear. 

He had hoped that Goodsir, of any of them, maybe even more than Crozier, could understand that old understandings of the world were meaningless now, out here. But if the doctor thought himself too good for Hickey, he would close him off in turn.

"Perhaps this is a new covenant, then, for a new God," he says, as he stands up. He does not elaborate further, and Goodsir does not ask him. He throws the skin on the hard rock and grinds it under his heel as he walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Exodus 4:26 (KJV).


End file.
